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The Undergraduate Magazine
Vol. V, No. 7 | Noevember 15, 2004
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Show off your knowledge of pop culture
trivia.
Page 3
Unequal Protection
Strongin argues male birth control is
not an exciting proposition.
Page 4
From Philly to Florence
Pederson enlightens Penn on Sister
Cities International.
Page 5
HOLY MAN
Nickled and Dimed Enough
Hertler refuses to pay Penn another
cent he’ll never see.
Page 8
DANIEL NIEH
WHO’S NAKED?
China’s Urban Underground Cultural Revolution
BY CHRISTINE CHEN
“WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS NAKED? [gestures towards his wife’s nude paintings] Why does ‘naked’
make it art?” This quoted excerpt begets itself from
the 1993 Robert Altman directed film, Short Cuts.
The question is posed by Dr. Altman, played by Matthew Modine, whom you may or may not recognize
as the voice of Fluke, the reincarnated beagle (think
1995, I know I did). Modine, who generally settles
as supporting actor to his comparatively famous
costars, can boast to have played some of the most
obscure roles known to man, such as the formerly
uncredited role of “Movie-Within-Movie Actor” in
Notting Hill, which thanks to IMDB, is now made
known to all who inquire. Apparently, roles below
“Officer Number Two” and “Pedestrian” do indeed
exist. His filmography is downright depressing.
Modine has gone from films of respectable mediocrity such as Pacific Heights to the likes of Funky
Monkey, the title of which suggests either a poorly
named 70s-themed porno or a children’s film involving a part computer-animated/part live monkey that
talks, wears clothes, and has been raised since birth
as a human. Sadly, I do believe that the truth lies
somewhere closer to the latter scenario.
However, this seemingly random reference to
Short Cuts and Modine leads to an important, updated and sweeping inquiry regarding nudity and its
implications on art, particularly in modern China.
The country is notorious for smothering expression
of ideas that differ from antiquated governmental
ideals with an iron fist and for concealing egregious
national concerns from the international community. Nevertheless, such repressive tendencies have not
diminished the voices of young artists in mainland
China. In fact, contemporary events have shown the
government’s efforts to repress only amplify expression.
Recently, Beijing Press and Publication decided
that the most popular book of 1999 in China, Shanghai Baby, was both pornographic and immoral in
nature and proceeded to actively ban the book. The
twenty-six year old female author, Wei Hui, writes
candidly about the realities of her celebrated city
of Shanghai—namely the sex, drug abuse, alternate
lifestyles, profanity, and general culture clash that
inhabit it. Following the ban, police publicly raided
several book fairs in the capital and confiscated copies of Shanghai Baby. The publishing house of the
book was punished with a three month suspension
and the publisher of the book was “replaced.” The
banning of the book was not entirely without motive.
The government viewed Hui’s angle as glorifying the
“immoral” lifestyle depicted, fueling the Bureau’s
initiative to cleanse society and curb the increase in
prostitution and drug abuse that are all too real in
China. Needless to say, the book, spiked with controversy, promptly became a highly demanded commodity internationally and was regaled as shocking
and refreshingly honest. On the other hand, one bitter critic rants, “it appears that one of the publishing
world’s latest minor crazes is to indulge the whining,
self-absorbed, oh-so-shocking musings of China’s
disaffected youth culture… the undeserving recipients of far too much attention…on material that’s
been said and done a hundred times before.” This
may be true, but it is important to keep in mind that
Continued on PAGE 7
ROCKISM
OF AGES
BY JAMES HOUSTON
and the Juniors, creators of 1958’s “Rock’n’Roll Is Here To Stay,”
with perjury. The rock’n’roll of that era, which made the explosive
spiritual and sexual energy of the blues comprehensible to white
people, was all but extinct by the start of the Nixon administration.
Atomized into sub-genres awkwardly crammed under the awning
of “rock,” the once-dominant medium became ever less able to
defend its prominence from stylistic upstarts. In the new century,
with computerized gizmo proliferation making popular records
less human with each passing year, the future is at once blurry and
bleak—holding innumerable possibilities, few of them hopeful.
For the Halloween edition of the New York Times, pundit Kelefa
Sanneh dressed up as an eloquent teenybopper in an article called
“The Rap Against Rockism”. His conclusions are artfully vague, but
the gist of the piece is that “rockists,” loosely defined as curmudgeons who dream of Keith Richards decapitating Justin Timberlake with an axe-shaped guitar, need to shut up.
Subjectivity is both the boon and the bane of the critic’s universe—if good and bad art were separated by indisputable truths,
they wouldn’t be open to to opinion, and so there would be no use
for opinion-givers. On the other hand, since “but I like it” is a sufficient personal bottom line for any artistic value judgment, no one
ever has to admit he’s wrong, which suggests the extent of the critic’s
influence. I mention this paradox now because what follows may
at times seem like unequivocal preaching when, although I think it
explains the relative longevity of many records, it’s not.
So, here goes. The rap against rockism’s credibility doesn’t
make it past Mr. Sanneh’s subtitle, which inquires “The bias toward
guys, guitars, and solitary genius is less relevant than ever. So why
won’t it fade away?” By definition, the opposite of “solitary genius”
is “assembly-line crap,” so unless I’m missing some hidden sarcasm
or irony, why shouldn’t there be a bias towards solitary genius?
Why should we give up on expecting innovation and effort from an
industry that gets so much of our attention and money?
But, you say, Britney changed music forever and plus she works
soooo hard! First, a packed schedule of photo shoots and Pilates
Continued on PAGE 6
N OVEMBER 15, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
P AGE 2
FirstCall
Vol. V, No. 6 | November 8, 2004
The Undergraduate Magazine
Executive Editor
Jordan Barav
Editor-in-Chief
Julie Gremillion
Assistant Editor
Robert Forman
Andrew Pederson
Lauren Saul
Columnists
Robert Forman
Julie Gremillion
Brian Hertler
Brendan Houser
Mickey Jou
Michael Patterson
Andrew Pederson
Lauren Saul
Anna Strongin
Writers
Shira Bender
Victor Bonilla
Christine Chen
Adam Goldstein
James Houston
Steve Landis
Sathish Naadimuthu
Andrew Migdail
Pauline Park
Roz Plotzker
Artists
Stephanie Craven
Shira Bender
Marian Lee
Layout Editor
Krystal Godines
Layout Staff
Anna Stetsovskaya
Marnee Klein
Business Managers
Jordan Barav
Alex Chacon
Greg Lysko
Marketing Manager
Leah Karasik
Marketing Staff
Lauren Saul
Anna Strongin
Webmaster
Rachit Shukla
Contact Information
330 Jon M. Huntsman Hall
3730 Walnut Street
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clubs.wharton.upenn.edu/fcpaper
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Students, please include your
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Editorial Policy
First Call is the undergraduate magazine
of The University of Pennsylvania. First
Call is published every Monday. Our
mission is to provide members of the
community an open forum for expressing ideas and opinions. To this end, we,
the editors of First Call, are committed
to a policy of not censoring opinions.
Articles are provided by regular columnists and writers. They are chosen for
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author. No content in First Call unless
otherwise stated represents the official
position of the administration, faculty,
or student body at large of the Wharton
School or the University of Pennsylvania.
Editorial
KNOCK, KNOCK
Perhaps one of the greatest things the United States stands for is freedom of religion,
the freedom to believe what you want, when you want and how you want. Sometimes,
people take this freedom a little too far and translate it into the freedom to tell people
how they should believe what you believe and how you believe it. At some point in your
life you’ve probably been home when a wandering religious group decided to knock on
your door and try to talk to you or your parents about your faith and why they have a great
system you should join. A pair of folks, usually father and son for sentimental effect, represent usually either the Mormons, the Jehovah’s Witnesses or the evangelical Christians
on their weekly Sunday front porch preaching.
Here at Penn, most people think we’ve managed to escape such door to door traveling
circuses. Au contraire. I have personally run into a group or two from Jersey walking the
streets of University City passing out pamphlets about the Lord and how Jesus wants to
save me. I had one woman, dragging a number of children of various ages around with
her, explain to me that she just had to stop and talk to me because when she sat next to
Jesus in Heaven, He was going to ask her why she didn’t stop and try to tell me about Him.
She didn’t laugh when she told me that, either.
Even residents of the High Rises, stereotyped for their resistance to socializing, are
susceptible targets. Recently, Campus Crusade for Christ has sent members of its organization to various peoples’ apartments in Harrison College House to talk to them about
their faith—just for a few minutes, they promise. More than one person has been a little
freaked out by such visits. In case you need an introduction, Campus Crusade is also the
group who writes those creepy messages on Locust after Easter. You’ll be walking over the
bridge and read “He Is Alive!” followed by “He Will Find You” followed by “Are You Ready
For Him?” Not something you want to read walking alone late at night. Lest we forget,
Campus Crusade is probably well aware door to door solicitation is illegal in any and all
college houses, and more than one group on campus has gotten into a bit of trouble for
such actions.
Now I am friends with and know some perfectly decent and lovely people in Campus
Crusade, but I would imagine they are conscious that our friendship would end as soon
as they knocked on my door one night to talk to me about why Jesus can save me if I only
give him a chance. If we are a country who prides ourselves on allowing people to believe
whatever they want, why on earth do people feel it necessary or even desirable for them to
impose their faith on others. Sure, you can just close the door or post a “We’re happy with
our current faith and are no longer researching options. Please don’t knock” sign. But you
shouldn’t have to interrupt your life so someone can make you feel like an ass for closing
the door on a man and his 8 year old son. Plus, you know they talk shit about you as they
walk back down your driveway.
The bottom line is that people don’t want to be bothered at home by people they don’t
know. If we want to be a part of your organization, trust us, we will come find you.
JULIE GREMILLION | SOUND ADVICE
Julie presents the old, the new
and the diehard favorites.
RETRO REWIND
“Always on My Mind”
Elvis Presley, Re-recorded by Willie
Nelson
Anyone who has ever felt the pain of a
lost love or relationship is intimately
familiar with this Elvis ballad written in
the early 70s. His unmistakable croon is
tear-inspiring, and the words are such a
powerful and poignant expression of regret.
The single hit #16 on the country charts
in 1972 and was featured on the album
Ballads compiled by RCA showcasing
the depression-ridden period in Elvis’s
song-writing life from 1969-1977. Not
surprisingly the same years during which
he and Priscilla were falling apart and
eventually separated and divorced. The
album features such other hits as “Don’t
Cry Daddy” and “Unchained Melody”.
Willie Nelson re-recorded the track in
1982 on an album of the same name that
features a selection of famous songs Willie
was covering including the somber “Party’s
Over” and the seemingly impossible “Do
Right Woman, Do Right Man” originally
recorded by Aretha Franklin. Willie adds
his own gritty flare to the classic in a
similarly powerful version but, as usual, no
one can beat The King.
IN STEREO
“Lady”
Lenny Kravitz
EDITORIAL ADVICE
“Safety Dance”
Men Without Hats
I’m sorry to say Lenny appears to have sold
himself to the Marketing gods because both
of his last two singles have been featured
on commercials.
He’s now battling
with U2 and Aerosmith for the Most
Commercialized Artist of the Year award.
“Where Are We Running?” belonged to
Target, and “Lady” belongs to the Gap. I
couldn’t stand the first one, particularly
with Lenny’s chemically straightened
long hair, but I believe he redeems himself
somewhat this time around. Maybe it’s his
improved look, maybe it’s Sarah Jessica
Parker prancing around in Gap mutations,
but I really enjoy his new song. It has an
unshakable beat, the kind that makes you
walk a little sexier and bounce your head
around like you own the world. Think of
what “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” did
to people last year, and you’ll know what
to expect. Lenny might be moving in the
right direction from Target to the Gap,
but I just hope he doesn’t get used to the
commercial springboard for all his future
singles. God forbid he becomes the latest
ipod disaster.
TV Guru Rob Forman mentioned this
song to me this week, and I have to admit
I have no clue why he likes it. If you try
to remember the worst Devo song you’ve
ever heard mixed with a background
track pulled from a cheesy Make Your
Own 80s Video mall booth, you still won’t
be close to the true horror that is “Safety
Dance”. Men Without Hats is a former
80s band still trying to create albums
with members AWOL and the like, but
they originally hailed from Illinois and
did most of their work in Canada. They
call it synth-pop—whatever the hell that
is. This track was released in 1983 and
was their first single, somehow going top
ten in 20 countries and winning them a
Grammy nomination. Such an extreme
mishap clearly indicates the poor quality of
music in 1983—a nomination by default.
For some reason, Rob really enjoys this
freakish mix of electronic synthetic crap,
but that’s probably because he likes to
practice his Robot moves, which is pretty
much the only image that comes to mind
upon hearing the song.
N OVEMBER 11, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
P AGE 3
INSIDE:INCREDIBLES POP CULTURE CONTEST!
HOW TO MAKE AN INCREDIBLE MOVIE
MICKEY JOU | SITES AND SOUND
THERE ARE TWO REASONS
to go see an action adventure
movie. You go to see the action, or you go to see the story.
Yes, once upon a time, action
movies had storylines—something Colin Farrell should try
to take note of if he wants
to be a credible action hero.
Pixar’s latest fare The Incredibles delivers it all: the action
(pow!), the story (yowza!), the
clever references (hello, Mr. Bond), and of course, eye-popping special effects (whoaaaa!).
What The Incredibles does with the genre of action adventure is something the Austin Powers trilogy did not think
to do: re-invention. Yes, Dr. Evil is the perfect parody of the
perennial megalomaniac bad guys, and yes, Austin Powers is
perhaps the quintessential caricature of James Bond and the
whole crew of smooth-as-ice double agents with secret identities. However, the Powers trilogy is out to make fun whereas
The Incredibles,
with just as
much research
and maybe even
more, tries to
tell the story of
the superhero
versus the modern society. Can
you really save
yourself against
liability?
Or
the
boredom
of the suburbs?
Or the societal
ideal of having
the perfect ‘50s
Father Knows
Best family?
After being forced to retire by civil suits condemning
people who want to do good things and help other people,
Bob Parr—alias Mr. Incredible, voiced by Craig T. Nelson—is
plunged into real life, where you can’t even be a helpful insurance policy agent let alone a superhero. Armed with a
strong storyline of returning a hero to his “glory days,” Pixar
opens a floodgate of well-researched worlds and seamlessly
blends all of them together. There is no corner in the world
left untouched by Pixar’s imagination: the audience travels
from the glossy mundane suburban family life—with references to Kimmy Gibbler from Full House, the pastel Stepford
neighborhood of Edward Scissorhands, and taking a whole
chapter from the art direction of the recent 1950s rogueidentity caper Catch Me If You Can—to the island of superarchnemesis, Syndrome where the Star Wars series,
Jurassic Park, and Myst/Riven moments abound to the
City-to-be-Destroyed, which, while being implicitly New
York City, has the anonymity of metropolises from video
games and old-school Japanese Godzilla flicks. Pixar’s
design team manages to not only create the micro-universe of The Incredibles stylistically unmatched, but they
do it all without taking away the integrity of the story.
The Indiana Jones trilogy with the combined forces of
George Lucas’ production and Steven Spielberg’s storytelling
also achieved the same thing.
How much more fun can you get than watching this
movie? How about this: doing all the work you need to do
in order to make this movie? The films, sitcoms, and video
games I mentioned above cover only a small percentage of the
research that is evident in the designing of The Incredibles.
What really makes the movie for me is the fact that they take
typical characters and stretch them out in more ways than
one. All the stories I’ve ever wanted to hear about the boy
superhero (Dash, voiced by Spencer Fox), Neo as a Dad (Nelson), and Wonder Woman as a mom and a wife all gathered
together in a dynamic family drama. Yes, it’s a family drama.
Think about it. How often do you really get to know, or want
to know, about your Dad’s glory days? How often do you get
to appreciate your Mom’s no-nonsense attitude? Or your
sibling’s “special powers”? The Incredibles tells that story of
human interaction, of fear and betrayal, of invisibility and
responsibility.
While they may not have told it perfectly—the Hollywood
Romantic Kiss moment was shudder-worthy, and no amount
of after-school specials will ever de-sensitize me from the “be
yourself ” speech—the characters remain refreshingly original
because they are mostly zesty twists to the old archetypes. It’s
impossible to miss the hilarious but validated “super mom”
aspect of the now-grown up Elastigirl (voiced by Holly Hunter). And while Jim Carrey did a fabulous job as he always does
as the Riddler in Batman Forever, there is much more venom
and hysteria in Incrediboy-turned-Syndrome, to whom anyone who’s ever been disillusioned about Santa or the Tooth
Fairy at too early an age can easily relate. And watch for Edna
E. Mode (voiced by writer/director Brad Bird), based on E!
style guru Joan Rivers’s witty self. Armed with Q’s gadget
know-how with fabrics, Alfred’s support, Mr. Miyagi’s timely
guidance, and Hadden’s resourcefulness, she is easily the funniest character and the best tribute to a beloved mentor-staple
character everywhere.
No amount of description of this movie will do it justice!
Watch it. Be ready to be dazzled by the effects the first time.
Appreciate the art direction and pop culture references the
second time. Enjoy the humor, the banter, and the characters the third time. Even after all of this, I guarantee that
you wouldn’t mind getting the DVD to watch it a few more
times because the story
and the animation of The
Incredibles is just that…
incredible.
See for yourself and
take up my challenge: find
any five pop culture references you see in the movie
and email them to me. The
more obscure the better.
The person who submits
the five most unique references (as in, references
that nobody else got) will
win a $20 certificate to
The Bridge and the 15
most interesting references will be published the following
week. Come on. Don’t you want to know how many Star
Wars/Matrix/Jurassic Park/Lord of the Rings references are
in the movie?
Mickey Jou is a junior in the College. You can write to her at
myjou@sas.
FIRST CALL CONTEST!
Take Mickey Jou’s Pop Culture Challenge!
1. Read this week’s review column, “Sites and Sound.”
2. Watch The Incredibles.
3. Send Mickey your list of 5 most obscure pop culture
references not mentioned in this week’s review.
Winner will recieve $20 gift certificate to The Bridge!
Respond to Mickey (myjou@sas) by Dec. 1.
Winner will be announced in our Dec. 3 issue.
P AGE 4
N OVEMBER 15, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
DON’T FORGET THE RUBBERS:
The impotence of male birth control
A N N A S T R O N G I N | A TA S T E O F M E D I C I N E
FOR ALL THOSE GIRLS struggling to remember to take
their birth control pills, help is on the way. Currently, researchers are working hard to develop a contraceptive drug
for men, and since it has already been proven to be effective
in monkeys, you can expect to see it on the market in no
time.
Although the pill’s effectiveness mechanism is not
entirely understood, the
basic idea has to do with
an immune response developed against the protein eppin, which disables sperm
fertilization of an egg. The effects, however, are not
permanent, and experiments have shown that the essential function of sperm is regained once a subject goes
off the pill.
Once this drug is fully developed for human use, it
can provide men all over the world with an alternative
superior both to condoms and vasectomies—the only
two forms of male contraception currently available. No
longer will men choose between making a permanent
commitment to not having children or spending a fortune on something that prevents them from attaining
maximal pleasure during sex.
It seems like a dream come true: something that
researchers should have and probably would have developed a long time ago, if not for lack of money. But
funding was limited, and for good reason—the drug has very little practical value. In
fact, I think that it is pretty useless.
For one, no matter how effective it may prove to be, few women are going to trust
their partners enough to go off their own form of birth control. After all, the cost of a
pregnancy is far higher for a woman than for a man, since the woman is the one who
will get stuck with all of the life-altering decisions of having an abortion, putting a
child up for adoption, or actually raising the baby.
If the woman continues to take the pill and it is 99.7 percent effective, then creating an equivalent contraceptive tool for men seems rather redundant.
More importantly, a pill of this kind is likely to discourage men from using condoms, since they will no longer need them for the extra element of assurance against
getting their partners pregnant.
This drug is likely to lead to an increase in transmission of STDs. The contraceptive does not protect against any of those infections, which are not transmitted by the
sperm but by the infectious agents in the seminal fluid.
Many people tend to disregard long-term effects for the sake of immediate selfgratification, and so the pill will just be one more excuse to avoid using condoms.
Finally, vasectomies may not be as awful a means of contraception as they are made
out to be. First of all, they are not irreversible,
even though the procedure to undo a vasectomy
is relatively complex and expensive. Additionally,
those who have them done tend to think about
their long-term goals, and so most are unlikely to
renege on their decisions.
Therefore, the combination of vasectomies,
condom use, and female contraceptives create
the optimal combination of pregnancy and STD
prevention. Putting a male contraceptiveon the
market will do nothing but disrupt the balance
that currently is working to reduce the unwanted
“side effects” of sex.
Furthermore, the pill has been shown to
evoke an immune response against eppin in a
small group of males in India, but it has not been
shown to actually prevent fertilization in humans.
Researchers predict it can take as long as a decade
to make something that can be released to the
pharmaceuticals market.
That’s a long time for something with no minimal practical purpose. Plus, this
drug is expensive—the average cost of developing a new prescription drug is over $800
million. Therefore, instead of wasting so many resources on this pill, the money ought
to be appropriated to the research and development of drugs for more pressing illnesses, like cancers and AIDS. Or at least, it could be used to invest more money in the
production of flu vaccines so that we don’t get stuck with a huge shortage again.
Anna Strongin is a junior in the College. You can write to her at astrongi@sas.
THE HOUSE DOCTOR IS IN
ROB FORMAN | MY 13-INCH BOX
“WE’RE HAPPY YOU’RE NOT DEAD, MISS REBECCA.”
Touching. Heart-warming, even. Oh, sorry, I just gave the
ending away. Come on, like you’ve never picked up a mystery novel, flipped to the back, found out the butler, in fact,
did it, then proceeded to read the damned thing anyway.
Here’s what I said about House in September:
The only procedural to really stand out is House
M.D.—named both for the pun and for the main character’s
last name. First and less objectively, the show takes place
in a fictitious hospital in my hometown and the pilot was
directed by Bryan Singer. The show’s focus isn’t so much
the hospital and its staff as it is the patients and their problems, specifically one very serious
mystery. Dr. House is a diagnostician, and he tries to get to the root of a problem that eludes
other doctors. It would be too lengthy to describe the pilot’s mystery, but suffice it to say the
show makes a very good case against eating pig products. The show could become typical
fare, which would disappoint me.
House, the latest medical mystery drama to be unleashed on network
TV this Tuesday, is deceptively procedural. It combines the kind of special
effects CSI viewers are so inured to that they don’t need to take an anatomy
class—zooming into a person’s nostril, then getting microscopic on a Fantastic Voyage tour to the brain—with a decidedly un-CSI element: living
people. While crime scene investigation as an occupation is about catching
murderers and putting dead people in body bags, the medical profession is
about treating illnesses and talking to patients. Or is it?
Atop the eclectic cast of characters that make this show stand out from the rest of the
crime and medical procedurals is Dr. Gregory House, deftly played by Hugh Laurie. An
unkempt genius, Dr. House is one of the nation’s premiere diagnosticians. Essentially, he
finds out what’s wrong with patients, even when other doctors and specialists are completely
baffled. Dr. House dislikes wearing lab coats, walks with a cane, has a pain killer addiction,
and hates talking to patients. People lie if you give them the chance, so he doesn’t bother. His
boss, who I’ll discuss later, forces him to do clinical work, which provides humorous interludes with problems that range from simple—your child has asthma—to strange—your skin
is orange, which is a combination of eating too much food with red and yellow pigment vitamins and your wife cheating on you because she didn’t notice. Since everything is connected,
the scenes with clinical patients aren’t just comic relief; they help inform the big mystery of
the week. This intellectual and professional mystery is what interests Dr. House. His job is
done when he finds the real problem—whether it’s a tapeworm in your brain or being orange.
It’s up to the patient to want, and to take, the treatment.
Oh, yeah, he has a brutally honest, acerbic personality. We’ve seen in the past that acerbic and main characters don’t mix incredibly well. Audiences love brutal honesty because
it makes them laugh and because it’s unexpected compared to the normal song and dance.
However, audiences also need to resonate with characters, and that’s among the functions
the other main characters serve. Dr. House hand picked his underlings—I mean his team.
The position at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, again, a fictitious hospital, is
supposedly one of the most prestigious in the country. So, why these doctors? What purpose
do they serve?
Omar Epps’ Dr. Foreman is a neurology specialist, had a 4.0 GPA at John Hopkins Med
School, is African-American, and has a small criminal record from his teen years. He’s the
new man on the team and serves as the viewer’s portal into the world of House. With his
suspicious past seemingly haunting him throughout college and medical school, it’s understandable he feels he has something to prove, and from his first scene, he gives the audience
the impression he’s been proving himself his whole life. I can’t help but think his over-eagerness, or his past, will come back to haunt him.
Jesse Spenser’s Dr. Chase is essentially Dr. Foreman’s polar opposite. Though his specialty is intensive care, the man is anything but intense. He’s been with Dr. House for a year
and is content to just idle away the time. He’s a good doctor, to be sure, but Dr. House reveals
to Jennifer Morrison’s Dr. Cameron that Chase’s father made a call to get him the position.
I imagine if he ever found out, he’d lose that cocky smirk. Though I hesitate to conjecture,
I honestly think Dr. Chase is there to be male eye candy for FOX viewers. So far, he serves
very little purpose.
Jennifer Morrison’s character is the moral, ethical center of the team. Despite the lab
coat, the viewer’s assumption during her first scene is that she’s Dr. House’s secretary. After
seeing the other doctors around her help solve the mystery of the week, Dr. Cameron begins
to wonder about her place. She’s an immunologist and helped save the patient’s life early in
the episode, but contributed little thereafter. She’s hot. But is that
why she’s there? Dr. House tells her to her face that, yes, it’s because
she’s hot. But he admires something in her, because she could’ve
taken the easy way out of life due to her looks. Hot girls don’t go to
med school, apparently.
Two other characters fill the main cast of the show, though they
aren’t part of Dr. House’s team. The first is Robert Sean Leonard’s
Dr. Wilson, an oncologist. He performs the role of Dr. House’s
friend, but I get the feeling that he hangs around too much. Maybe
he wanted to be part of the team but didn’t qualify?
The second character is Lisa Edelstein’s Dr. Cuddy. She serves as both a hospital administrator—Dr. House’s boss—and as a doctor. A funny moment comes towards the end of the
show when Dr. House is watching General Hospital and hears one of the characters utter
the exact thing his boss emotionally spouted at him earlier: “We’re doctors; when we make
mistakes, people die.” Though it could be suggesting any number of things about Dr. Cuddy,
I think she lives in a different medical drama world than House. After all, Dr. House’s patient
didn’t die, even after several misdiagnoses to finally find the real problem.
It took me two viewings to really get at what this show is about. Sure, House has the
medical mysteries, but I’ll level with you: I’m not a pre-med. They could be spouting jargon,
true or false, and I’d be compelled to believe it because I don’t know any better. Besides,
shows about professions tend to have on-staff consultants who used to be doctors, lawyers,
cops, etc., in order to keep everything in the realm of fact. No, it’s not the mysteries that
make this show special. It’s all in the name. It has to be. House. Why name the character
House? For a cheap pun about house doctors? No. Non-traditional though it may be, the
damaged characters that comprise the team make the point abundantly clear: this show is
about a group of professionals coming together as a family.
In the meantime, we have real, human mysteries to look forward to. Again, I don’t mean
the medical maladies, though I certainly expect the diseases to play a part in the real questions at hand. At the top of my list would be finding out what made Dr. House lose his faith
in humanity.
It’s not the mysteries
that make this show
special. It’s all in the
name.
Rob Forman is a junor in Wharton. You can write to him at robertf@wharton.
N OVEMBER 15, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
CITIES OF SISTERLY LOVE
P AGE 5
ANDREW PEDERSON | BRUT FORCE
WORLD PEACE IS HARD.
So help us all, no matter what
efforts we make, no matter
what grandiose projects we
institute, there always remain
two or more groups of people
here and there who can’t get
through the day without killing each other. It is precisely
for that reason that the powers
that be decided take drastic action to stem the tide of bigotry, cultural division and hate.
Because when you’ve truly had enough, it’s time for the Sister
Cities Program International, Inc.
Perhaps the name is unfamiliar, but in 1956 Eisenhower
realized, brilliantly, that nuclear proliferation and communist containment vis-à-vis fake wars in Indochina and secret
CIA-backed coups in Central America lacked the warm and
fuzzy appeal of real dialogue. To supplement the pointy, explosive-laden “peace sabers” buried throughout the Midwest
and the democratically appointed dictators in Guatemala
and Nicaragua, the President then implemented the Sister
Cities Program, which has since been jettisoned by the government and reformed, in impeccably American style, as a
non-profit corporation.
Today, though we no longer have missiles pointed at us,
we still enjoy hegemony as much as the next nation, and the
goals of the program remain the same: cultural exchange
on a micro level to foster greater global understanding and
encourage world peace. Activities between sister cities often
include: “everything from municipal training and community problem solving, to exchanges of media managers,
thematic youth exchanges, or professional internships focused on volunteerism, aging, healthcare, public safety, the
environment, and more.” Take Philadelphia: what exactly
are we shipping abroad, communications majors and cheese
steaks? And why, if a city wants to establish a relationship
with a foreign community, must it work through channels
such as Sister Cities International? Rest assured that the
reasons are manifold.
Some of the benefits of membership to Sister Cities, Inc.,
for a nominal fee of one thousand dollars, include: “official
listing in the Sister Cities International Directory, opportunity to… participate in programs such as Wheelchairs for
Peace and… special access to the Members Only section of the
greatly enhanced Sister Cities International Web site.” It’s
amazing how even the non-profit websites these days begin
to echo the format of hardcore pornography, only weirder.
After all, are we really to believe we’ll get our money’s worth
with the “Wheelchairs for Peace Gone Wild” pictorials in the
member section? And even if you don’t get sexy pictures of
paraplegics, it’s only a super organization if you’ve refused
to acknowledge any of the years past 1957. At least, I think
that’s the last time somebody fell for the Who’s Who among
International Cities scam.
Digging a bit deeper, one finds that not only has the Sis-
Take Philadelphia:
what exactly are we shipping
abroad, communications
majors and cheese steaks?
ter City program survived on its own throughout all these
years, but it has risen to absurd heights. Philadelphia, for
example, has ten different sister cities already and expresses
a desire to “have a sister city in every country,” proving that,
like fake charities, one can slap “world peace” or “starving
puppies” on anything and elicit a wildly enthusiastic response from image-conscious bureaucrats and bored eastern
bloc governments alike.
From Douala, Cameroon to Nizhny Novgorod, Russia,
Philadelphia is busy spreading its message of peace, economic cooperation and urban blight to a variety of people
who, when you think about it, have a great deal in common
with us: in all likelihood, they could care less. Until a few
days ago, I had no idea there was such a thing as Sister Cities, much less an entire corporation dedicated to distributing
critical online newsletters and hosting cheesy youth art competitions. I’m equally positive that if one were to query a citi-
zen in any of the three sister cities, you’d get either a puzzled
look, a polite question or a quick jab to the face before your
wallet is taken.
Call me a cynic, but the ideals of cultural exchange and
economic cooperation do not seem well served through an
obscure program whereby only the local governments have
any meaningful communication. The explanations offered
by the cities involved as well as the national organization
seem hopelessly vague when they refer to “world peace” and
“cultural exchange” as reasons for joining. World peace and
cultural understanding are wonderful, to be sure, but what
in God’s name does that have to do with wheelchairs and
Siberia?
It is not that I believe striving for significant international dialogue at all levels of society is an empty goal; on the
contrary, I think what Sister Cities International is attempting is a laudable goal indeed. What the program lacks, and
what is obvious from the program’s relative obscurity in the
public eye, is a crippling limitation on account of the banal
nature of urban planning collaborations between the cities
and the unrealistic scope of goals like world peace. To affect
the change the organization seeks, the relationships between
sister cities should be made relevant and familiar to the citizens of those cities so they can actually make a contribution
and perhaps even take away some valuable knowledge of
another culture.
The U.S. has suffered a previously unimaginable dip in
worldwide perception over the past years for obvious reasons, and projects which focus on cooperation and discourse
are invaluable in reconstructing the rather bleak, though in
most cases accurate image of our country abroad. While
Sister Cities International has its heart in the right place, it
needs to move itself into a larger sphere of public knowledge,
especially in other countries, so that all citizens actually
know that a relationship exists. Until we are visibly building
goodwill, we remain the distant home of Wal-Mart, liposuction, and Smart Bombs.
Andrew Pederson is a sophomore in the College. You can write to him
at awl@sas.
TO THE ARROGANT NORTHEAST LIBERAL ELITE
L A U R E N S A U L | W E E K LY S A U L U T A T I O N S
LAST TUESDAY NIGHT, after a
few painful days that redefined
the meaning of a weekend, I
pulled my head out of my books
and decided to take a look at
the latest spin on some key
events—namely the aftermath of
the election.
Most newspaper columnists,
who were either gloating winners or weeping losers, devoted
their columns to a discussion
of the reasons for the election’s
outcome. They all wrote with
an undue amount of certainty given Bush’s small, though this
time existent, margin of victory. In general, however, elections
did favor the Republicans, and this shift in Congress’s makeup
indicates a perceptible swing in American political leanings.
The reaction to Bush’s victory here at Penn reveals, in my
opinion, at least part of the Democrats’ problem. The Election
Day results were accompanied by pathetic squeaks of denial,
followed by the rapid spread of a website showing a link between Red States and lower intelligence levels. This superiority complex is expected among students at a top university
like Penn because our egos depend on confidence in our intelligence and level of sophistication, especially when compared
with those from the “backwards” American heartland.
However, problems arise when the more vocal members of
the Democratic Party continually blast this arrogant message
as they all try to convince themselves they are on the moral
side, or at least they are the only ones who can understand
anything. Increasingly, these elitists try to paint struggles
in this country as a battle between the enlightened ones and
“the self-righteous, gun-totin’, military lovin’, sister marryin’,
abortion-hatin’, gay-loathin’, foreigner-despisin’, non-passport
ownin’ red-necks”, in the words of the London Daily Mirror.
It is hard to imagine why the erudite among us think these
stereotypes will garner the support Kerry sorely needed from
inner states, for example Ohio. It is equally hard to understand why people who claim they are most open-minded feel
the need to categorize the rest of this country as backwards.
Such categorizations epitomize narrow-mindedness, and
many Americans are dismayed by this odd combination of
self-proclaimed open-mindedness and refusal to consider any
ideas that contradict their own established beliefs.
Kerry didn’t lose because the Christian Right decided to
bombard the polls or because of America’s rejection of the
gay marriage issue. Contrarily, more people than ever before,
according to nearly all the polls, support gay marriage. This
election was not a battle between those who want to return to
pre-modernism and the civilized, despite the efforts of many
columnists to portray it in that light. One New York Times
columnist goes so far to say, “Their new health care plan will
probably be a return to leeches.” Sorry, guys. Not everyone
outside the coastal states and Illinois is an evangelical, bigoted
fundamentalist. Those on the losing side repeat this nonsense
because they are bitter. Whining and threatening to move to
Canada will only annoy everyone who has to listen, and it will
further the divide between the “modern” intellectual wannabes and everyone else. Furthermore, the practice of assuming that anyone with a different opinion on the war in Iraq or
anything else is hypocritical and absurd.
I voted for Bush in this election. As much as it pained
me to press the Republican button as I stood in the booth, I
chose Bush because of my issues with the Democrats’ misunderstanding of the situation in the Middle East. I wavered at
times. I almost switched to Kerry after the first debate, when
Bush looked like a second grader making faces behind his
school principal’s back, as Pat Buchanan described matters in
his debate against Howard Dean.
Like every other liberal person, I am worried about conservative policies espoused by the Republicans. The Christian
Right frightens me because I support gay marriage, abortion
and most of the other Democratic “values”. However, the
Democrats’ unwillingness to face future realities, to do nothing in the face of Islamic fundamentalism, threw me to the
Republican side. I view the war on terror as a broad concept.
Yes, Bush was shamed when he couldn’t find WMDs in Iraq.
Yes, countless miscalculations were made in the execution of
that war. However, I still don’t believe it was “the wrong war
at the wrong time.” Saddam’s behavior prior to the war, which
included using chemical weapons to kill thousands of his own
people and refusing to let the UN inspect his weapons arsenal,
lent credence to the WMD idea. European spy agencies also
believed there were WMDs at the time.
If Al Qaeda has succeeded in one thing post-9/11, it is in
globalizing terrorism and gaining a presence in nearly every
nation. Italy now believes the jihadists who killed journalist
Fabrizio Quattrocchi were native Italian speakers. The recent
terrorists in Saudi Arabia told their victims they would be
spared as long as they were Muslim even if they were American. This war has to be conducted offensively. It isn’t meant
to be an innocent-until-proven-guilty ordeal. It’s a shame
Bush has no political savvy and he angers the rest of the world
even when it’s unnecessary, but he actually has consistent
views on the situation in the Middle East. The same could not
be said for his opponent.
People who knew my choice called me ignorant, and at
times they even tried to imply that I was in the same category
as the rest of the primitive, foolish American public. These
tactics accomplished whatever Bush couldn’t in his cringeworthy debate performances. I read the news as much as the
next person around here, and therefore, trying to threaten my
mental capacities or knowledge was an ineffective strategy.
This reaction also showed widespread unwillingness to even
think about the issues in a serious way.
To Democrats: if you want to win next time, please change
your tactics. Please stop alienating everyone else because you
think you are smarter than they are. You aren’t. And even if
you were, you still need their votes—yes, you need the help of
those beneath you. Stop portraying this election as a battle
between hicks and educated professionals. Perhaps, those
in Ohio chose to vote for Bush because you constantly speak
at them with a derisive tone as you sip your Starbucks and
pretend to be European—you still look American. No one is
being fooled. In addition, please find a candidate who doesn’t
adjust his political leanings every time pundits change their
mind about the dynamics of the primaries or election. Find a
candidate who has goals which extend beyond personal ambition. Please try to view terrorism as our generation’s biggest
problem because it is a force to be reckoned with. Please take
these aforementioned actions soon before too many Americans are left to vote for right-wing candidates and the passions
of the religious zealots gain an even more formidable voice in
American politics.
Lauren Saul is a sophomore in Wharton and the College. You can
write to her at lcsaul@wharton.
N OVEMBER 15, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
P AGE 6
ANOTHER SPORT KICKS THE BUCKET
BY ADAM GOLDSTEIN
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, as I was flipping between Fox and CBS to get my weekly
fill of NFL action, I noticed something peculiar. For some reason, Channel 7 on my
digital cable box was in the midst of showing
a soccer game. A soccer game? I didn’t even
know those were broadcast on television. I
reasoned that I must have accidentally picked
up a stray signal from Guatemala and peered
closer at the screen to discern what station I
was actually watching. To my astonishment,
the icon on the screen indicated that I was, in
fact, tuned into ABC, and the voices coming
out of my television were distinctly American.
Something was definitely amiss. Slightly bemused, I continued to follow the action until
suddenly I heard the announcer inform me
I was presently watching the championship
match of Major League Soccer. Come again?
The final game of a major American sports
league season was currently underway and
I hadn’t been informed? Didn’t the MLS
season begun about 10 months ago? Was
this league even still in existence? Clearly, it
was my duty as both sports fan and writer to
engage in some serious investigative journalism.
After a half-hour of scouring the internet,
I found that the announcer’s story checked
out. This was indeed the MLS Cup, and
the game had some intriguing storylines to
boot. Despite playing most of the season
without its two star players, Chris Klein
and Preki— last season’s league MVP—the
Kansas City Wizards were able to finish the
season as the Western Conference’s number
one seed. They proceeded to advance past
the San Jose Earthquakes and Los Angeles
Galaxy, two teams featuring star-studded
lineups, in order to earn a berth in the finals.
Meanwhile, in the East, DC United found
itself playing ineffectively and losing for most
of the season, but were galvanized by the
midseason signing of Argentine midfielder
Christian Gomez. The Black-and-Red went
on a tear, winning 5 of their last 6 regular
season games and garnering a number 2 seed
in the playoffs. After knocking off the Metrostars in the first round, United faced the
New England Revolution in the semifinals.
This match turned out to be one of the most
exciting postseason battles in league history,
as the teams fought to a 3-3 tie in regulation, before DC was finally able to advance to
the Cup after winning the game on penalty
kicks. Despite this dramatic series of events,
the MLS, once again, failed to market itself
properly. That someone like myself, who
played soccer competitively since the age of 7
and is an ardent sports fan, was unaware that
the league’s championship match was being
played right before my eyes speaks volumes
about the state of Major League Soccer in
this country.
To be completely honest, I’ve never
fully understood just why professional soccer
hasn’t caught on in the United States. I mean,
think about it. Do you have any friends, boys
or girls, who didn’t play recreational soccer
when they were growing up? For most of my
buddies, recollections of sucking on orange
slices during halftime of youth-league soccer
games rank right up there with thoughts of
first kisses and first trips to Disneyland in the
pantheon of important childhood memories.
As I grew older and began to play on various
traveling club teams, I was always amazed at
how much time my family and I, as well as
thousands of other families, spent with the
game. There can be little doubt that youth
soccer has uprooted Pop Warner football,
AAU basketball, and—gasp—Little League
baseball as the nation’s preeminent athletic
preoccupation for boys and girls of nearly
all ages.
With this notion in mind, one would
theorize that both children and their parents
would become interested in the game at its
highest level, the professional level. Further,
the popularity of pro soccer would continue
to bloom as our generation of 18-to-22 year
olds grew up, since we, not our parents, were
the first ones to participate in the explosion
of youth soccer. Yet so far, this has not been
the case. Since Major League Soccer’s inception in 1996, average game attendance has
declined in all but 2 seasons, and this year’s
total attendance is the worst in league history. Television ratings for MLS haven’t fared
any better, shrinking every year from 1996
to 2003 on all three national stations which
broadcast games: ABC, ESPN, and ESPN 2.
And that was just the men. Attendance and
television ratings were so abysmal for the
WUSA, America’s female professional soccer
league, that the league folded this year after
just its third season.
Most proponents of Major League Soccer
declare that those who criticize the league
and its dwindling fan base are being unduly
harsh. They argue that like any new professional sports league, the MLS will need sufficient time to grow, and that as soccer becomes
even more popular in the US, so too will the
MLS. The problem with this argument is
that, unbeknownst to most Americans, this
country already had a moderately successful
pro-soccer league, the North American Soccer League, which existed between 1968 and
1984. Amazingly, during the last 10 years of
the NASL, at which point most Americans
could not distinguish a soccer ball from a
beach ball, the league drew nearly as many
fans per game as does the MLS today. The
fact that the MLS cannot outdraw its predecessor, considering the popularity of amateur
soccer in this country today, does not bode
well for the nascent league.
With these facts in mind, my own prognosis for the future of the MLS is quite grim.
Yes, I agree with many sports fans who state
that the single entity ownership structure of
the league, in which every team is owned by
one holding company, is crippling MLS. This
model precludes teams from being able to
spend the necessary capital to prevent the
best American talent from skipping overseas
to play for big money in Europe, and erodes
absolute quality and competitiveness in the
league. Yet I believe the problem with professional soccer in the US is more deeply rooted
than that. Soccer is fun to play for children
and adults because the game requires constant movement, invokes few rules, and
rewards hard work and defensive grit just
as much as skill and goal scoring ability.
However, these are the same qualities which
make the game unpopular to watch for most
Americans. We enjoy witnessing athletic
contests defined by hierarchy and rules, in
which our most renowned sports heroes can
easily be distinguished by their gaudy statistics. We yearn for power and high scoring,
not finesse and 0-0 ties. We desire periods of
inaction amidst our games, such as timeouts
and seventh inning stretches, so that we can
reflect on the wondrous play that he have
just witnessed. The values we cherish when
observing all competitions, both athletic and
otherwise, have defined the structure of our
national sports: baseball, basketball, and
football. However, they stand in stark opposition to those held by the international
community, who view soccer as the only true
sport, as the beautiful game.
Thus it does not matter how many American school children begin juggling a soccer
ball for the first time this year, or how many
World Cups our countrymen capture over
the next fifty. Soccer is a sport forged from
a working class ethic which Americans can
no longer understand. This is why the best
players in the world honed their skills using
makeshift balls on dusty pitches in Sau Paulo
and Marseilles and Yaounde. This is why
Soccer will never be America’s sport.
Adam Goldstein is a junior in the College. You
can write to him at adamsg@sas.
ROCK
Continued from PAGE 1
classes doth not a suffering artist make—the type of effort today’s stars whine about exerting
only underscores how subordinate sound has become to image. Mr. Sanneh never defends this
sad reality, the hatred of which is the core of the rockist argument.
Second, Britney didn’t change anything. Max Martin, the Matrix, the Neptunes, Britney’s
army of stylists, and everyone else who contributed their talent to the finished product deserve
the visionary credit some bestow on their coquettish Frankenstein’s monster. Thus, another peculiar evil of contemporary pop is that its average fan has no idea who she’s screaming for—the
performer’s name and face are just shorthand for the work of many others.
It should be noted that of the countless superb records Motown released in the 1960’s, few
were written or produced by their performers. Label head Berry Gordy made no bones about
focusing on profit, but the difference was that he was selling music, not products. Without
MTV and Teen People to cover their asses, Holland-Dozier-Holland and the other legendary
staff composers had no choice but to write soulful, brilliant, R&B tunes. These were performed
by prodigiously talented singers— do you think Diana Ross ever worried about the wrong prerecorded vocal track starting at a live performance? —backed by the peerless Funk Brothers (see
Standing in the Shadows of Motown). Now, instead of Diana we have Hoedown Ashlee, and
the Funk Brothers have been replaced by samplers and drum machines. I desperately want to
believe Mr. Sanneh and his fellow anti-rockists aren’t saying we should forget the former and
embrace the latter, but that seems to be the unfortunate case.
What is unclear is whether the anti-rockists are arguing that rockism is inherently mistaken—i.e. that today’s hits are as good as or better than those of forty years ago, or that its gripes,
while valid to some extent, are reactionary and outdated. Mr. Sanneh seems to reach the first
conclusion when he asserts that Christina Aguliera’s grimy, hedonistic “feminism” is as radical
as the punk movement of the 1970’s (bullshit), but then he arrives at the second, writing, “The
problem with rockism is that it seems increasingly far removed from the way most people actually listen to music.” OK, here’s why we’re not going away until you convince us that O-Town is
better than Led Zeppelin. Rockism’s holy land—the ears of young people—has been colonized
by foreign invaders. We were there first, and now, despite Mr. Sanneh’s overstating our prominence, we’re consigned to a tiny settlement on the outskirts of where our heroes once built great
cities. This would justify a lasting grudge even if the music that replaced rock wasn’t comparatively crass and synthetic, but since it is, no one should expect us to cork our outrage.
The final insult in “The Rap Against Rockism” is “The problem with rockism is that it gets
in the way of listening.” Since rejecting rockism means forgetting the past and accepting or even
enjoying current music, I wonder how Mr. Sanneh surmises that someone whose five favorite
songs also happen to occupy the top slots on TRL is a better listener than someone who can
name five, or even two great songs from each decade since 1950. Yes, the hard-line rockists,
though I’m not one, will miss the rare good tune blurted out by today’s corporate machine, but
their ears are far more open than their trendy opposites. In the era of ClearChannel, rockism is
listening’s only hope.
Garth Algar’s exhortation to “live in the now!” was affecting when he said it in Wayne’s
World, but, rockist that he was, I suspect he’d take it back if he saw how things developed.
Rockism is only irrelevant in the nearsighted eyes of its detractors, unshakable in their belief
that shifts in the cultural wind are necessarily good. To the few who give the classic rock canon a
thorough examination and decide they prefer Britney: I don’t get you, but I respect you. For my
part, I just want to listen to Abbey Road as many times as I can before my suicide is compelled
by the editorial that argues preferring James Joyce to J.K. Rowling is “increasingly far removed
from the way most people actually read books.”
James Houston is a senior in the College. You can write to him at jhouston@sas.
N OVEMBER 15, 2004 | FIRST CALL | VOL . V N O . 7
P AGE 7
THE X-BOX EQUATION
How to minimize your workload and nullify your existence at the same time
BY STEVE LANDIS
But as stated in the introduction, Video games can also equal 0. In another situation enTODAY, WE WILL PROVE two theories: the first being that Video Games are a negative
number, the second being that video games equal 0. How can both of these things be true? tirely different from the previous mathematical set of assumptions, one can assume that “more
That will be shown in our conclusions. For now, we will consider the mathematical methods work + less work = 0”, because “less work” is the negative complement of “more work”. There
you have it, I have proven myself to you. Permission to grovel? Granted.
and imprecations involved in such a revolutionary theory.
What are the implications of this astounding mathematical discovery? First, it will imStudies have clearly shown that when one plays more video games, one does less work. A
recent experiment, conducted by myself and others for roughly thirty hours of hardcore X-Box prove life as we know it. Take any busy man or woman, say, the president, and give him more
action, proves this fact. 409011 – Does that number mean anything to you? How about back- video games. He will have less work! Perhaps if we would have though about this three years
wards—110904? Yes, you guessed correctly; it’s a date – the release of Halo 2. It also happens ago, the Iraq war would not have happened, because President Bush would not have had the
to occur during a week where several math and science-related midterms have been devilishly work time to do it. Let us not hark on the past, however sweet the nostalgia.
Anyway, take another busy person. A working, single mom. Give her more video games.
scheduled. While I am not what you would call a “math and science kind of guy,” many others
have been affected by this coincidence of important events. Halo 2 must be played, but mid- Less work! Doctor + more video games = less work! Your dad/mom + more video games =
lesswork!Yourboyfriend/girlfriendwhodoesnotseemtohavetimeforyouanyterms must be studied for. Hence we have an equation arising this
morebecausehe/sheisalwaysworking/studying/playingvideogames + more
week: K(More Video Games + More Work); where K is a constant
Studies have clearly
video games = less work!
equal to “why the fuck should I know.” How should it be balanced?
Video games can equal -1 or 0, completely defying mathematics or any
The answer came in hindsight, which as we all know is a process
shown that when
rational thought. 1=1 and that’s it, 1 does not equal 2 and 1, it only equals
of trial and error coupled with rigorous laboratory investigation, is
1. Therefore, mathematics is flawed and we do not exist. That’s right!
one plays more video
similar but not congruent to 20/20; 20/20 being a popular news
None of it matters, because I am not here, and you are not reading this. As
show on ABC, which, without Hugh Downs, is no longer the augames, one does less
the Nine Inch Nails so eloquently put it: “my whole existence is flawed…I
thority on Hindsight. Anyway, we found the answer: less work.
wanna fuck you like an animal.”
Though we had more work, considering midterms and all, we all did
work.
It all works. What can one do with less work? One has two options:
less work. Thus more work was converted to less work in a ratio of
work or play. The old mantra, which I have come to live by, is: “work before
about 10:1 molecules/sec. The added variable could only have been
“more video games.” Thus, if we assume that K is equal to 1 for simplicity (i.e. your feeble mind play, unless play = video games and is a negative number quantified by more; in which case, lay
would not understand; it deals with numbers and things, you know, science stuff), we have a before work because it will equal less work, which you will prove through an obnoxious article
general equation for the week of 11/7/04 (if we assume that “the week of ” always starts with a that no one is interested in reading.” I think Confucius said that. So my message is this: vote
for me for the Nobel Prize, pllleeeaaassee! What, you’re not on the committee? Then why are
Sunday, one of the most disputed concepts in human history):
you reading such an erudite mathematical expoundance? Oh, so expoundance isn’t a word,
K ( “More Video Games” + “More Work” ) = “Less Work; with K = 1, so:
huh! Well, I just Nobel-Prize-Invented it mothuhfuckuh! Oh shit, my mom is coming….
“More Video Games” + “More Work” = “Less Work”
Works Cited (the esteemed list of previously compiled masterpieces that, shamefully, influIn order to reduce the positive quantity “More Work” to the less positive quantity “Less
Work”, one needs a negative number, as in the equation “X + 10 = 1”, where X must equal “-9”. enced my thought):
Bungie, inc. “Halo 2.” X-Box. Microsoft Corporation: 2004. Novemer 9, 2004.
Thus, “More Video Games” is a negative number, the “More” equating to a whole, negative
Reznor, Trent, and NIN. „Closer.“ The Downward Spiral. Some Record Company: the
number quantifier and the “Video Games” equating to a “+1”. Video Games are a negative
90’s. November 10, 2004.
number.
(All official {MLA} statutes have been complied with in the compiling of this works cited.
But the more astute mathematician/nerd, and hence more valuable human being, would
tell you that if you equate “work” with a “+1”, “More” with a “10”, and “less” with a “1”, then I’m sorry that was in bold, but that is also an {MLA} statute, along with those pretty bracket
“More Video Games” becomes equal to “1/10”. Yes, but you have not simplified far enough, things...)
dear book worm! “More/Less divided by “More (a whole, negative number)” would equal a
negative number.” Nobel prize, here I come!
Steve Landis is a senior in Wharton. You can write to him at landist@sas.
BEST BETS
11/15 - 11/21
Rob’s TV picks for the week
Monday: The Late Show with David Letterman (CBS, 11:30 p.m.) Oh, the moldy,
old antics of David Letterman. Just kidding. Funnier than Leno, Dave and Paul
seem to still have it going on, at least when Dave actually decides to host. This
Monday’s show boasts the Naked Chef Jamie Oliver and a performance none other
than Mr. Jerry Seinfeld.
Tuesday: The Amazing Race (CBS, 9 p.m.) Hey, I just spent a whole 1300 words on
House. Without Veronica Mars on, the season premiere of this show stands out on
Tuesday. Though still a reality show, at least Race can boast two consecutive Emmy
wins. Take that, The Donald. The sixth race begins with a two-hour premiere
episode. Wholly based on their pictures and occupations, I’m pushing for The
Grandparents or the Best Friends team.
Wednesday: Lost “Solitary” (ABC, 8 p.m.) How pleased am I that the ratings for
this series grow every week? Very pleased, that’s how. Each week’s episode shows
a bit of the back-story of a particular character via flashbacks, as well as why they
boarded the ill-fated plane. This week’s episode features Sayid, the teach-savvy
Iraqi castaway who used to be part of the Republican Guard.
Thursday: Will & Grace “Saving Grace, Again, Part 2” (NBC, 8:30 p.m.) Victor
Garber. As a gay man. Honestly, I could care less about Grace’s recurring divorce
issues, but with last week’s first-part episode actually being funny, there’s some
hope left for this show. And we all get to laugh at Sydney Bristow’s father.
Friday: Joan of Arcadia “No Future” (CBS, 8 p.m.) That title about sums it up. I
was hugely disappointed with last week’s episode, when one of Joan’s best friends
died. Emotional? Yes. But, frankly, I think I’d be a lot less likely to do God’s bidding if he/she/it responded to my pain with a juggling metaphor. If this episode
isn’t mind-blowing and amazingly good, I’m out. Fortunately, series creator Barbara Hall is the writer, so there’s some hope for quality redemption.
Saturday: College Football (ABC, 7 p.m.) I was trying to decide which same-state
match-up to recommend this week, but I decided on the Washington at Washington State game. I don’t know why.
Sunday: Desperate Housewives “Anything You Can Do” (ABC, 9 p.m.) Oh, Wisteria
Lane and its entwining suburban mysteries. Gabrielle’s hot, naked affair might be
over. Lynette tweaks out on her kids’ ADD medication. Susan and Edie, rivals over
the new man on the block, spy on a sexy houseguest of his. And you know you’re
evil when you move a man who had a heart attack to your neighbor’s lawn so the
EMTs won’t mess up your greenery.
If You Can Only Watch One: Lost.
NAKED
Continued from PAGE 1
although the subject material has been said and done here before, the key word is
“here.” Other related literature that has met the same demise, or success rather,
include Chun Sue’s Beijing Doll, and Mian Mian’s Candy.
Similar speculations on Chinese societal and political issues are expressed via
the modern art scene in China. The 2004 Shanghai Biennale: Techniques of the
Visible, presently held at the Shanghai Art Museum through the months of October and November, features edgy contemporary art, and one such aspect of some
of the displayed works is inevitably nudity. Pieces range from a “mock mountain
landscape created by a row of naked human bottoms, to a skateboard ramp made
out of classic Chinese designs.” The press release appropriately reveals the focus of
the showcase as shedding light on “the close relationship between art, science, and
technology, in particular how art has revealed the interdependent social and political forces that produce and subjugate technology and humanity,” subtly implying
that some of the artwork to be expected is a response to political issues.
It seems the overtly conservative Chinese government has banned provocative
forms of expression with such clumsy bombast in the past that attention is in effect
magnified a thousand times not only in China, but around the world. The young
adult intelligentsia of urban China is manifesting its views on societal issues in experimental contemporary art through a variety of mediums and forms. Ultimately,
it is not how many four letter words pepper the pages or how many nude paintings
hang on the walls of a gallery that meter controversy, but rather the metaphorical
nakedness and at times, outright vulgarity of China, effectually exposing the societal weaknesses of a nation through the voices of estranged rebel youth to anyone
who dares to listen.
Christine Chen is a sophomore in Engineering. You can write to her at cachen@seas.
m
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JERSEY’S A TRASH HEAP
BECAUSE NEW YORKERS DON’T
KNOW HOW TO RECYCLE.
THE UNDERGRADUATE MAGAZINE | N OVEMBER 15, 2004 VOL . V NO .7
Critically
Informed
I’VE GOT YOUR SENIOR GIFT RIGHT HERE
BRIAN HERTLER | SLEIGHT OF HAND
DURING SENIOR YEAR, Penn
prepares you for life after graduation. Specifically, Penn prepares
you for the life of an alumnus-they start asking you for money.
Like a beggar outside Wawa, our
multi-billion-dollar university has
begun asking students to open
their wallets for the greater good.
The Senior Gift Drive is now underway.
The Penn administration has given seniors some great
experiences. Since words cannot express our gratitude, we
get to use dollar signs instead, and put our appreciation into
monetary terms. For $5, I get added to a list Penn can show
off to U.S. News and World Reports. For $250, I get my name
engraved on a nice commemorative plaque.
Of course, I myself won’t be giving a nickel to Penn--not
now, and definitely not after I graduate. But I think I deserve
a plaque anyway.
As I recall, I’ve been very generous. Let me consider the
gifts I’ve made so far, and the ways that Penn has spent them.
$3,500. I made a huge donation at the start of my freshman year, when I dropped a bundle on a meal plan that I
didn’t want. For each $10 swipe, I think I got an actual value
of about $4. The rest was my gift to the school. I think it went
into the High Rise renovations, so Penn could buy gimmicky
$800 chairs that nobody uses.
$30. Last year I made the charitable decision to buy a
t-shirt, hat, and cane for Hey Day. That’s right, juniors--that
Styrofoam hat and reinforced-cardboard cane aren’t free.
Penn needed the money for the Student Activities Council,
so the a capella groups can hand you extra flyers on Locust
Walk.
$150. Once, when I was young and foolish, and before I
knew how to use the Internet, I chose to “sell” my textbooks
back to the Penn Bookstore. I use quotation marks because
the deals I was getting ($10 on a book that cost $90; $1.25 on
a softcover that cost $30) easily crossed the line between commerce and charity. Penn was able to shrink-wrap my books
and re-sell them at a huge markup the following semester.
From the profits, they were able to buy those silly Homecoming Day balloons they’d been dreaming about.
$2,000. I live in Harrison College House, where rent is
well over $3,000 a semester. I’m not sure what a fair price
would be--the building has poor elevator service, frequent
water shutdowns, and a vermin problem--—but I suspect that
much of my “rent money” is paying for the wireless Internet
under College Green, which I’ve never seen anyone use.
$92. We’re all paying for a clinical fee at the University
Hospital, even if we never get sick. Thanks to me, our friendly
Penn doctors can pump a few extra stomachs every Thursday
night.
$8 a month. I don’t have a phone in my room, but a mysterious charge for “telephone services” has appeared on my
bill. Penn uses this money to pay for lawyers, so it can keep
the grad students from unionizing.
$20,000. I’m taking a guess on this one. This is all the
financial aid that Penn has refused to give me for the past few
years. The administration must be thrilled to have me as a
student—--they’ve saved a ton of money by not giving me
anything. I’m not really bitter about it, though. I’m sure the
money is making lots of important improvements—like putting up Levine Hall, an engineering building with walls made
entirely of glass.
$28. I’ve lost my PennCard twice this year. Even without
all the other donations I’ve mentioned, the penalties I paid for
replacements cards (at $15 each, minus the costs of lamination), make me more generous than the majority of Senior
Gift-givers. Their charity might be more voluntary than
mine, but their money isn’t any greener. It all goes to the
same place: back to the Senior Gift Drive, to do the engraving
on those nice commemorative plaques.
My class will probably fail to meet its donation goal, like
almost every class before it. As the year winds down, the
Gift Drive will compare us unfavorably to Harvard and Yale,
where something like ninety-nine percent of seniors donate.
I’ll keep walking when I hear their pleas. I know that, even
though I didn’t willingly make a contribution, I managed to
help the school in my own, less-appreciated way.
Brian Hertler is a senior in the College. You can write to him at
hertlerb@sas.
APPOINT SENATOR SPECTER?
Someone call Jesus right away
M I C H A E L PAT T E R S O N | O U T O F T H E F O L D
I HAVE LONG BEEN of the belief
that things are always better in
moderation. This goes for a wide
variety of things. For example,
sitting down at an Indian buffet
might tempt some to gorge themselves sick on curried vegetables,
rice and nan. Too much food,
however, and one walks away
feeling sick with the slightest urge
to vomit (been there, done that).
Ever sit in the sun? Don’t stay out too long now, or you might
put yourself at an increased risk for melanoma. That’s no fun
at all. Even too much sex can make anyone tired, achy and
sore. Where is the fun in that? Sure, it feels good for the first
few hours, but then you wake up the next day not wanting to
move. Yes, moderation seems central to just about everything
in life. Especially when it comes to a Republican Senator from
Pennsylvania named Arlen Specter.
Senator Specter is up for confirmation in the near future
to head the Senate Judiciary Committee. As the solidly conservative Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah prepares to step down
at the end of his six year term as Chairman of the committee,
Specter would represent something this nation desperately
needs—a politician who appeals to more than just his party’s
loyal. Senator Specter has a long career of advancing the
Republican platform while simultaneously reaching across
the isles of Congress to work with Democrats to make real
progress for the nation.
For example, during the Reagan years, Specter generally supported the majority of the appointees to the Supreme
Court and federal courts nominated by Reagan. However,
when one particularly conservative came up for review—Robert Bork—Specter showed he would not vote for extremists.
The Senate voted 58-42 against Bork’s appointment. In other
cases, such as with conservative Clarence Thomas and the
even more rightist Antonin Scalia, Specter chose to follow his
party and the Republican White House in voting for confirmation. So the worst another Republican can say about him
is that he does not always go 100 percent of the time to the
right, right?
The day after Specter held onto his Senate seat in Pennsylvania by an 11 percent margin, he spoke out for the first
time to President Bush about any possible appointees to the
Supreme Court. He said "When you talk about judges who
would change the right of a woman to choose, overturn Roe v.
Wade, I think that is unlikely," continuing that the “president
is well aware of what happened, when a number of his nominees were sent up, with the filibuster.” As I see it, Specter says
nothing divisive or surprising here. As he has said repeatedly
since, he was referring to the fact that Senate Democrats still
fortunately hold onto 44 seats, with one Independent who
A moderate Republican
might get confirmed to lead
the Judiciary committee.
Quickly, call Jesus right
away. Send out the GodMobiles!
votes along with them. With 55 votes, the Republicans still
remain five votes short of breaking any filibusters Democrats
can still put up to prevent radical appointments to the highest
Court in the land.
Predictably, however, conservative anti-choice organizations across the country started throwing a fit. Rev. Patrick
Mahoney told the New York Times that "If the Republican
majority voted in Senator Specter as Judiciary chair, it would
be a slap in the face and betrayal to the millions of pro-life,
pro-family Americans who worked so hard to elect President
Bush and Republican members of Congress.” Other groups
were planning protests outside of Senate Majority leader
Frist’s office. When I turned on the television the other day,
nearly every cable news network had a feature with interviews
of any number of right-wing leaders calling on the Senate to
reject Specter’s confirmation.
This uproar leaves me laughing at all the people who
deny that the far right exerts a large amount of influence and
control over the country. After all, they have gotten nearly
everything they wanted: they are solidly in control of all three
branches of government, they exert tremendous influence in
most states in the nation, and they have succeeded in adding discrimination to over a dozen state constitutions. Yet
the Conservative Right never seems satisfied with what they
have accomplished. Oh no! A moderate Republican might get
confirmed to lead the Judiciary committee. Quickly, call Jesus
right away. Send out the God-Mobiles!
We have an overwhelmingly conservative government in
all branches now. If President Bush was serious when he said
he would “reach out” to those who voted against him in the
last election, then he and like-minded Republicans should
support the appointment of Senator Specter to the Head of
the Judiciary Committee. In fact, appointing someone like
Specter will probably be the best way to ensure that Democrats do not filibuster the nominees whom the President will
submit for consideration. A moderate heading the task of voting on judicial nominees will create a less hostile atmosphere
for many in the Senate, with fewer concerned about the President pushing a conservative agenda into the Court.
Regardless, ensuring that there exists at least one voice
of moderation heading a Senate committee is the right thing
to do. Republicans in Congress seem to have forgotten that
they represent all people in their home states—conservatives, moderates, and liberals alike. The only way they can
successfully do this is through representation that achieves
what Senator Specter would—finding middle ground where
none seems to exist. Otherwise the nation will be left with
that nauseous feeling one can only get from going crazy at
the Indian buffet, only without the yummy spicy taste that
might justify it.
Michael Patterson is a senior in the College. You can write to him at
mjp2@sas.